


Kiss Number Four: Samachumbana

by a_xmasmurder



Series: The Eight Types of Kissing [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond is being strange again, Developing Relationship, Frustration, Idiots, Injury, Kissing, Life and Such at MI6, M/M, but adorable, phone conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4. Samachumbana – Equal Kiss – Staying face to face, kiss on her lips. Eyes can touch her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Number Four: Samachumbana

“ _Nooooo..._ ” Q dragged that word out for a good five seconds. “I did not say that. No. Why did you - but logic dictates...but _why_ did you touch it? There’s warning labels on it.” He waved the person trying to get his attention away for the third time. “They are there for a reason.” The person poked him. He flicked his fingers at them. “Then why the hell did you - and how did you manage to blow up yet another containment box? Let’s ignore the fact that you clearly can’t read, and let’s ignore that you disregarded common sense, warning labels, and the completely unrelated reason why it was in a _containment vessel_. Let’s also ignore that you apparently are having hallucinations because you think that I told you to open that box and play around with the _highly unstable explosive material._ Mitchell. Mitch - _Mitchell!_ Shut up and let me continue. Thank you.” The person still poked his shoulder, and he took the phone away from his ears and hissed at them, then turned back to - wait. He glanced up at...007. No. Bond.

“Oh. Hello.”

Bond smiled and sat down in one of the guest chairs in front of Q’s desk, the one he inherited from Boothroyd in the office he’d inherited from Boothroyd. He only used this room for deeply personal moments, such as when he actually remembered to get up from his workshop desk before passing out on his projects or when he wanted to privately berate someone over the phone when he had a broken ankle. The aforementioned ankle sat, propped up, on a padded ottoman. He glared at the cast, then held up one finger for Bond to wait, then returned his attention to the phone in his hand.

“Alright. Listen - _yes_ , you did a good thing and called - that’s not the point, Mitchell, the point is that you damn near died, and I don’t need people dying on me. That makes me look like a bad overlord, and I prefer to be known as a benevolent dictator, not Hitler. I want you to fill out that incident report - yes, the one that is sixty pages long and requires you to sign in the blood of your first born.”

Bond snorted quietly and shifted on the rarely used overstuffed chair. Q flashed him a quick smirk and groaned loudly. “Oh, shut it already, you were the one that actually opened the fucking thing. Stop blaming me for your idiotic curiosity and fill out the damned report. I want it on my desk before you leave today.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m serious. Unless you want to find out how I power this place? Didn’t think so. Listen, I have a meeting to get to. Do. The. Report. Understand? Yes? Good. Good _bye_ , Mitchell.” He pressed end and tossed the phone onto its receiver, and rolled his neck.

“That good, huh?” Bond had his trademark smirk on again, and Q wondered what he’d blown up.

“Idiots. I work with a bunch of monkeys.”

Bond chuckled. “So do I. Speaking of which...”

“Don’t tell me. You lost your equipment again.”

Instead, Bond pulls out not only his specialised gun and his radio, but three floppy disks and a small hard drive from a laptop. “Merry Christmas, Quartermaster.”

Q reached out for the drive. “Hardly Christmas, Bond -” He blinked hard when Bond leaned forward and kissed him square on the lips. Once again, the kiss was different because he kept his eyes open. Q stared into those beautiful steel-blue eyes, almost grey that close, and felt self-conscious about his own boring eyes hidden behind the boring glasses. He expected tongue, especially after that stunning kiss in the gymnasium - and subsequent rutting session that had him seeing stars for the rest of the night - but the kiss stayed...well, not exactly chaste, but not sexual, either. _And those eyes!_ Q couldn’t look away. Bond pulled away, and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry about the ankle, too.”

Q boggled. “You...didn’t order snow and ice, so don’t...why are you apologising?”

Bond shrugged. “Seemed the thing to do. I’ll bring you something to eat.”


End file.
